


God Emperor of the Divines

by The_Caretaker



Category: Original Work
Genre: Chapters' rating will vary on occasion, Multi, Will put warning in the notes at the start as a heads up, more tags to come
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-06-25 08:02:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15636582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Caretaker/pseuds/The_Caretaker
Summary: Once grand and glorious, the world has fallen to new lows as civilization reels from the consequences of a final confrontation. Mankind suffers in kind as moral degeneration and depravity fester and breed unbidden by societal boundaries. They revel in physical pleasures more and more with each passing year, killing one another for pettier and pettier reasons each year, all while the world around them changes. Mutants and machinations of the old world stir, as well as remnants of long-forgotten guardians.This is the tale of a simple slave boy.





	1. Renew the Nile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Includes sexually-charged scenes with a minor, no actual intercourse with a minor.

Granules of sand form grand and potent deserts when amassed together into a cohesive form. And atop these ever-shifting arid, sweltering particulate biomes were the remains of a once mighty nation. One born from the rejuvenation of annual deluges, raised through the implementation of serfdom; exploitation and taxation alike, and governed by the worship of a supposed manifestation of gods long since lost to the annals. Now naught more than towns and cities loosely connected by trails, yet divided by countless claims to the archaic throne and moniker of Emperor. And all that still is owes said continuation squarely to the final thread of human decency, of which everything clings to for dear life. Yet even this string threatens to unravel and thus plunge innumerable lives into a globe-spanning orgy of human immorality, toppling what still stands.

Despite this, though, people and families subservient to those of a higher societal standing did their best to retain a happy outlook on life. Regardless of the situation or the misfortune, they endure, not to mention whatever oppression they encounter. After all, why be miserable when you can easily provide yourself with elated moments through cheap and simple imbibing? And one such shackle-bound family was more than eager to bury the day's woes with merriment, especially after Azizi's older brother, Aapnelk's death.

It happened during the back-breaking hours of servitude when the sun above sat heavy in the peak of its zenith. And while fatigue-laden from the crawl up, it still had more than enough spite to muster the energy to bog the city down in blistering heat. But while others had the gracious protection of their rooves and the shadows and such cast within the confines of society, slaves had no such luxury. Yet the suffering was divided evenly among them, as the enfeebled and elderly fared the worst in such horrendous conditions--someone like their father.

Time hadn't been kind in its courtship with the man, and being under the constant stress of the whip and chains only compounded the matter. As such, intense manual labor expected of fit and able men took a grievous toll on his wellbeing. Even more so when beleaguered by the golden orb beating down from overhead. But he'd always managed until then, for that day was particularly awful, and the man was quick to find himself incapable of continuing with the work assigned to him.

Much to the irritation of the overseer present.

The whip-toting brute barked at him, even lashed out at the ground once when he collapsed to his knees and dropped a basket of stones. He approached him, red in the face, and continued to yell even as their progenitor tried to get back to his feet. Whenever he tried, though, the other used his free hand to shove him back to the road before jabbing a finger towards the container. Those looking on did nothing and said nothing, just kept their heads low and went about their business But Aapnelk stepped up to the plate and intervened before the situation escalated further. He took the thing of adobe in one arm, using the other to shoulder the weight of the basket he’d been carrying prior. Then he continued on, heedless of the overseer.

And for his kindness, the adolescent was repaid in the driver’s special attention. Whenever he walked too slowly, he was encouraged to quicken his step with a lash across the back of his legs. Each trek took many times longer than usual due to the other’s constant attempts to take the legs out from under him, sometimes even giving him implicit orders to go the complete opposite way and then had the gall to chastise him for wasting time. A few times he was even forced to stop whatever he happened to be doing, demean himself by stripping what little he already wore and start dancing for the monster’s amusement. Then there were times when he was just struck for no apparent reason whatsoever, begetting a cackle from the overseer with his every reaction. Yet his older brother refused to give in to the man’s depravity and bore it all, either out of determination or spite.

Someone found Aapnelk dead on the road back home that evening, colored with bruises and painted with lacerations.

Unfortunately, this was par for the course these days. Cruelty and misfortune went hand-in-hand now, rearing their ugly heads every day, thus rendering humanity and everyday life for calamitous bedfellows. So, while appreciated, acts of goodness such as those of his brother were a fool’s commodity that only bred loss and melancholy. However, merciful coping mechanisms had long since been developed to deal with such tragedies--alcohol, their ancestors’ utmost brilliant innovation. And drink they did, even the children, all coped better with such wondrous substance.

Among said youths was Azizi, a child that came up to the middle of most adults’ thighs. Unlike his late kin, he was in no danger of keeling over from overwork; nor stillbirth, but only one died like that. Not out of mercy or any such humane quality, though, but rather due to their owners having no desire to risk a future servant perishing before getting any use out of them. However, he was no more than three years away from being tasked with such onerous labors. And in light of this, as well as to keep the boy from dwelling on the passing, he was given more alcohol than the other children. But this was due in large part to his mother, a woman far too intoxicated for common sense to have any meaning. The same applied to moral decency, too, and societal taboos.

Much like the other grown-ups indulging in more physical pleasures as the night and their inebriation progressed; the child’s mother began hanging off of the already tipsy youth. She’d take large swigs of beer before planting her lips messy against his, parting them with forceful prodding with her tongue. Then she’d swap spit with him, pushing the liquid down his throat and guffawing after he gulped it down. Someone would tell a joke and she’d laugh with the rest of them as she pawed at the sole fabric he wore—garments around his nether regions—with a lecherous glance and quick lick of her thin lips. Then she’d go even further, slipping said hand down past the material and stroking his most private area while leaning in and whispering drunken sweet nothings into his ear, pressing her bosom into his back. But none of this seemed odd or strange in the slightest; it was just another day, another night in his life. Yet he simply couldn’t help feel shy and anxious whenever his mother got into a mood like this, because he’d start feeling hot and bothered as his own list, albeit muddled by youth’s naivety, flared up along with the shameful part of his privates.

But the night was unlike the others, for his mother did not continue her antics after escorting him to the partial privacy of some bedding. It was because his father was still keening for the loss of his eldest son, to which begot the ire of his partner. How was she meant to have special bonding time with their last child when he was making such a racket? And a man shouldn’t be blubbering like he was, so suck it up and stop assailing their friends’ ears with his grating voice. In the commotion, though, Azizi took the opportunity to wander off without anyone noticing.

Stepping out of the lit interior of the adobe hovel, the boy saw a series of other similar structures all erected around the margins of the city. He squinted out towards the blackened ether, aided little by the moonlight and torchlight streaking out of the archway and window cutouts. The nighttime air nipped at his exposed skin. Everything swam in his vision like after being spun ten times in a row and sent out to hit a piñata. Yet he trod on, more of a stumble really, to pursue his inebriated foray into the cold night.

In the dark of night, his jet black hair and light mahogany skin came close to rendering the youth into a shadow in the dead of night. One could even say his unkempt head of tangled locks acted as a sort of curtain from the back, pristine and unbroken. Unlike his visage, this was discernable from the vivid pools of light honey encircling his glassy pupils. Then there was his clothing, rather lack thereof, which were simple rags the color of dirt from caked-in grime used to cover his lower regions. Something girls his age didn’t receive until they started to mature. So without even an iota of illumination beyond the moon’s pale radiance, anyone looking his way was unlikely to spot the little slave boy as he meandered about.

Lucky with the curfew and all.

Surrounded by the chilly atmosphere incited an odd confliction in the temperatures his body experienced. The liquid courage imbibed was akin to a campfire warming his insides like a gradual burn, inching up and outward from his sternum and abdomen. Then there was the cold night of spring, something which only lessened during summer in the desert. And it filled his head with a white noise of prate and spontaneous thoughts like how hungry he was, how he disliked the taste of vegetables and how pretty starlight was. Yet, sometimes, he’d have a very sober thought like how he missed hugging Aapnelk or how he missed bedtime stories with mother that didn’t end in special bonding time.

Then he walked face first into a large boulder, stumbling back and falling onto his rear with a trickle of scarlet now inching down his upper lip. Yet the fiery anguish which now afflicted his nose suffused as through a filter, then dulled by a barley-based numbing agent. He even felt a similar sort of anguish blooming through one side of his butt. After who knew how long he’d been spacing out for, he finally became apprehensive, loosely, of where he was. During his absentminded wandering, his legs managed to take him to the outskirts of the city—not too far of a walk considering the position of home. He shook his head and leaned his head back to examine his surroundings. And what he saw was sand and rocks of all sizes as far ahead as he could see out into the dark of night. The desert beyond the bastion of civilization was harsh and unforgiving, not to mention rife with indistinguishable dunes and archaic ruins. There were even mutants and monsters lying in wait around every stony outcropping, eagerly anticipating the moment they could ambush the unsuspecting wayward traveler.

Suffice to say, there was a litany of perils threatening the lives of those foolish enough to traverse the shifting sands. It’s a paramount reason why few listed to leave the confines of their city.

Standing up, Azizi rubbed his hindquarters lazily so as to tend to the burning, benumbed ache. He stepped towards the rock and pivoted before gazing downcast into the impression his rear left in the malleable particulate. When he fell, something poking out of the sands jabbed him with a dull tip, piercing fabric and rupturing skin to draw crimson that painted the granules in minute patches. A moment of scrutiny later revealed some deviation towards the right cheek of the indentation. Getting on hands and knees, the child leaned in and saw that the abnormality was the tip of some stony object, a majority of which was still buried.

It was probably just an odd rock, nothing of interest.

Thus he rose to a kneeling position before falling back onto his calves. Unprompted giggling left his lips in a drawl, and he leaned back onto the very same boulder that left his nose feeling out of place on his face. Bit by bit, the boy succumbed to the laughing urge with heightening volume. Whether it was the feeling of the particulate against the skin of his thighs, which touched the ground in the W-shape of his sedentary position, or something unrelated that only the inebriated would think of in the moment, he just couldn’t help but find the situation comical.

“ _Your laugh is adorable,_ ” proclaimed an ethereal voice.

Blinking, the youth stopped and sought the source of the voice which seemed all around him. It sounded like his mother did when she told him she loved him, only a million fold. One in which resounded and echoed within itself until it sounded like a hundred individuals were talking at once, each waiting a second for the one before them to start before beginning themselves. The tone, aside from lovingly maternal, was also wispy and sultry. Almost like a partner beckoning to their mate, eternally enticing them to approach the bed and consummate their union for another night. Not to mention as mature and intelligent as a woman could possibly sound.

“ _Please don’t stop,_ ” she said “ _I enjoy listening to your laugh. It’s been so very long since I’ve last heard any laughter, especially as genuine as yours. The crying and yelling are all I hear these days…_ ”

His search bore no fruit, much to the boy’s chagrin. The woman sounded to be talking from everywhere at once, and yet each syllable reverberated inside his skull like his own subvocalizations. And to compound the situation, the warmth he felt grew exponentially with every sensual vowel uttered by the individual. Especially around his lower regions, where a familiar excitement and anxiousness begot a shy shift in his disposition.

Whoever was speaking seemed to take notice.

“ _Oh—I see you’ll grow up to be quite the strapping young man. But still, too young for such adult pleasures. So who,_ pray _tell, gave you_ beer _?_ ”

  
A hiccup caused him to bounce up, but he was quick to settle back into place. Now, though, he was squeezing his legs together and pressing either hand against the indent forming in his garment. It wasn’t easy in the slightest, however, due to the size. There was a low, lurid rumbling sound that begot a shiver down Azizi’s spine. But he mustered up what courage he could find and responded, “M-momma did… a-always does be-before bonding time…”

“ _Well, we’ll just see about that later down the line… but first things first, can you do something for me_ sweetie _?_ ”

“O-okay ma’am…” squeaked the boy, his timidity brimming.

“ _Ah, you’re so cute~! Can you reach down and pry that rock you sat on out of the ground?_ ”

Tearing his eyes away from the shameful reaction manifesting in his nether region, he looked back to the impression with rounded eyes that overflowed with renewed curiosity. He almost entirely forgot about what he was doing and returned to his hands and knees without so much as an ounce of hesitation. The tent, without obstruction, bulged out more and more until no more than an inch or two separated the tip from the sand. And if an onlooker saw, they might have seen nubile throbbing flesh peeking out from the now open sections. An audible inhale teased his ears as he inched forward. Both hands stretched out and pawed handfuls of sand until the smoothed surfaces of something carved from a rocky material were exposed. Now his interest was piqued.

Continuing to dig uncovered more and more of this object until he could finally achieve a small grasp on it. Had he any patience, he might have stopped long enough to examine the item. But he had none and simply took hold of it before yanking back with all his might. As a result, the particulate immediately around and the item itself began trembling from the exertion. But the lack of feeling in his fingers hampered his ability to muster much of any strength in them. Even still, though, he persisted with a partially lucid conviction. For he felt a compulsion to do as the voice requested, yet not in the same manner as when an overseer barked their orders.

They both stemmed from an external source, yes, but they were still fundamentally different beyond what anyone could acknowledge on a conscious level. For instance, a task driver’s hollering begets a sense of emergency. You know you’re powerless, have no say and will be punished if you disobey. So you do as they say out of self-preservation. Comparatively, the list elicited from the voice feels like one derived from your own psyche. Except you know it’s neither your voice nor idea. Rather than eliciting a sort of emergency, you’re filled with a sort of water. And with said proverbial liquid, emotions and thoughts and desires once left to rot in the depths of one’s new life, leaving you to contemplate these never before experienced things. But at the thought of being deprived of such blissful freedom, you become obstinate and fight to retain them—to let them bloom and flourish forevermore.

“ _Just a bit more,_ ” she coed. “ _You’re almost there!_ ”

Galvanized, Azizi’s visage contorted in consternation as he leaned farther back. His bare feet crawled through the sand inch by inch, and a girlish grunting drawled out into the air. The nighttime ether stung the back of his throat and pricked every inch of exposed skin. All around him, the granules started quavering and shifting as if alive. Every bit of ground was animated with anticipation, swirling and writhing as if enjoined by an unseen gale. It was like someone plucked intangible cords of the desert’s harp, breathing life into each particle and gust of wind and twinkle in the night sky and settling of the earth. Then something gave after a moment more.

The object popped out of its tomb with gouts of grains scattering in all directions. Some got in the boy’s eyes, and the irritation combed with the immediacy of the release shunted him backward. Without balance, he’d be flung back and smack the back of his cranium into the same jagged boulder. But that deathly impact never came.

Instead, he felt the cool and coarse grain of the sand cushion the impact of his head against the rock. He blinked several times and watched with lidded eyes as the desert sprang to life. Golden shimmering sand defied gravity and inched up into the air as fluid pillars, forming orb-shaped eddies unbidden by the laws of physics. And said spheres poured their contents towards him, swirling and condensing into a definite shape--a feminine hand more than twice his in size, the one responsible for preventing his head from cracking against the rock. Then the particulate expanded beyond a mere mitt so as to fill in the definitions of a forearm, a bicep, then a shoulder and so on. Said granules suffused a visible whirlwind of force, that which gave the sand something to fill, beyond the shoulder similar to an hourglass until a female hominid body hovered over him began taking shape. Yet none of it was solid, for it all continued to swirl and undulate in tandem with the same whirling force.  
Not even a second after did several shafts of tow-colored light and rays of black as pitch darkness poke out from under the cohesion.

Then they were gone an instant later, taking with them the grains’ animation. A brief lapse of idleness lapsed before the sand remembered their mass and started to cascade back to the ground, revealing what laid beneath.

Perfection made manifest as bulgarian rose-colored skin stretched across the generous curves of a woman’s hourglass figure. There was nary a pimple or blemish to be seen. Her waist dipped inward to highlight the ample rise of prominent baby-birthing hips mortals could only fantasize, as well as the overt lack of cloth hiding the pristine carnal mound between her legs. And to match such gracious endowment were thick thighs and legs longer than any man or woman could hope to develop. The same was true for her arms, as well as the rest of her body--it was all far too beatific for a mere mortal to possess. Something matched only by the presence of a lengthy black, striped feline tail swaying back and forth between said limbs. The slim, toned midriff region led up to a pair of immaculate mountains extending from her chest and resting heavy against her sternum; each peak was depressed into the puffy summits they’d normally protrude from, both of which had a lighter, pinker hue. Each of which were just as uncovered as her nether regions.

But the world was merciful in that her face was far too captivating for him to immediately notice her exposed womanhoods. Like the incandescent gold glow radiating from her irises, each akin to honey-tinted stars swimming amid a starry black ocean, always regarding the object of their interest as a predator does with its prey; always regarding the object of their interest as a mother does while watching their child. Or the tresses of voluminous hair flowing past her shoulders like the rich black silt of the Nile after a flood, glossy even in the pale moonlight. Of which did a splendid job camouflaging the set of animate feline ears poking out of her head. The soft, maternal facial features: pillowy full lips colored a deep shade of apple red, luscious long eyelashes that glittered when the nocturnal radiance hit them just right, trimmed brows and defined laugh lines that seamlessly blended in with the rest of her contours.

“Now, now,” she purred with a beaming grin--how her mouth moved was enthralling. “Can’t have my big, strong savior hurt himself on my account, can we?”

Even when her tone was that of a mother speaking to her infant, the utmost sultry nature which caused the boy to feel hot under the collar remained a pertinent undercurrent. And her stark body only made it many times worse. But before he could try and cover that shameful region, or even cover his red-hot face, the woman took him into her long, toned arms like a cradle. Then she straightened up, pivoted and sat down cross-legged with a thud in one fluid motion. He was placed into her lap gingerly, sat on her crisscrossed ankles while most of his lower torso was swaddled by her mile-long legs, and then was hugged snug against her midriff. Unfortunately, this meant his head reached up to and was pressed into the lower end of the valley, engulfing the top of his cranium between her burgeoning bosom. As if to make matters worse, or better depending on one’s viewpoint, she leaned forward and, due to the height disparity, rendered him blinded and muffled by her immaculate flesh.

The warmth was nothing to scoff at, certainly, and neither was the firing of her heart. It hammered and echoed through each vein, coming to meet his ears with such intensity that he thought he might go deaf. And while deprived of his vision, Azizi became painfully apprehensive of that which stimulated his other senses. These included, but weren’t limited to: the intoxicating aroma which wafted off her like transparent water vapor, how her arms set his chest ablaze as they were wrapped around them, the feeling of what his mother referred to as “mommy’s special place” pressing into the back of his pelvis, and the gelid air torturing his raging turgid phallus. In the repositioning, the fabric straining to contain the erection lost its grip and ended up opening up for the pillar of nubile meat--the moment it did being when the head popped out of its sheath and bloating to its full size. Now it was throbbing out in the open, leaving him a salivating mess, more and more with each second spent unattended and exposed to the elements.

This was something he only came close to experiencing when he was alone with his mother, but nothing she did ever felt as overwhelming.

“I cannot tell you how grateful I am, little one--I’ve been asleep for so long,” she whispered. “And I can’t remember when I last held someone as cute as you~! Oh how I miss my children, they were always so precious when I pinched their cheeks.”

With the dry desert atmosphere, humid heat of the valley and excruciating want scorching his genitals, the child licked his cracked lips. A primal response elicited from some unconscious pit that only emerged for those approaching puberty. Then his stomach grumbled almost simultaneously.

She chortled, fingertips of one hand dancing down the sides of his body.

“But where are my manners, I haven’t introduced myself yet.” One of her arms pulled away from his chest, leaving him a tad colder than before. But the other continued inflaming his skin with its digits’ gentle touch. “I’ve been known by many names, but I’ve grown partial to Nefertiti. Refer to me as such, or call me as you list. And you, little one, must be quite hungry--just look at you, all skin and bones~!”

He felt her shift around and sway her breasts, causing them to rub against his chafing skin and serenade his ears with a sloshing of liquid. It only begot ragged, hot and heavy panting. Not even mother was this cruel. Then a pop resounded within the splashing of the left mountain before he smelt something intoxicatingly sweet, a scent overpowering that which flooded his nostrils endlessly. A moment later and she placed a thumb against his chin, brushing the wet tip of her pointer against his bottom lip. The flesh tingled and he couldn’t suppress the animalistic reaction to buck his hips, practically putting his distended length on display. She chortled anew before pushing her finger into the awaiting moist cavern.

All the alcohol he’d ever consumed was rendered to naught more than watered down piss as he tasted what dripped from the finger. Creamy and piquant, it paralyzed his every taste bud with an inundation of euphoric bliss who’s aftertaste fed a torrent of gasoline into his passionate wildfire of want. Thus he clamped down onto it and began suckling on her digit, tongue swirling and lapping until the only moisture on the skin was his spit. The third arm standing at attention physically hurt from how tense it became, evinced by several more pelvic lurches towards the sky, its stony stiffness betrayed only by the vehement throbbing of each veiny bulge. It even cried a single yellowish-white tear from its lone eye.

The woman’s thumb trailed up to and stroked his cheek tenderly all the while.

Once gone, she pulled the finger free. Azizi squirmed and whimpered, even arched his back to try and make his fleshy ebony baton that’d put grown men to shame more prominent, while attempting to take the false teat back into his mouth. But even if he did, in the back of his mind he knew it wouldn’t be enough. The act invoked in him dual primal urges, one normally forgotten along with the rest of their years as an infant and the other which’d been coaxed out early by his own mother. Of which now burned brighter than any star with such encouragement.

“Do you want more, little one~?”

“Y-yes! P-please mommy!”

` If he wasn’t so focused on the now fading taste of the milk, he may have caught the quickened pace of her heart.

“Alright, alright, but only because it’s you, my little man~”

And like that, the same hand as before reached in and took hold of his head before pulling him out from between her mountains. Then she spun him around without allowing him to adjust to the sudden flash of moonlight, settling his body against her hot flesh. She used the other hand to move her real teat, milk-streaked and bumpy from many ducts, and the puffy areola it jutted out of like a succulent plush spigot bleeding whitish gold nectar. His twitching manhood almost tore the fabric keeping it trapped in an awkward, agonizing angle, as the intense heat radiating from mother’s special place teased the turgid flesh. As such, his hips involuntarily jerked back and forth as he stretched his mouth open as wide as he could and took in as much of the love button as possible. Fortunately, he was more than able to get it inside despite it being so much larger than that other woman. And he was rewarded with the first of many mouthfuls squeezed out by one of her hands as his arms wrapped around her back, warmth diffusing from his throat to the rest of his body as the prior stimuli returned a thousandfold. But the only progress he achieved down below was brushing one of the lips with the glands, much to his body’s dismay.

To which Nefertiti sighed happily, the same hand moving away from her chest to start stroking his head as he suckled. Brushing out sand as she did.

“I missed this, too…” she murmured. “I wonder if… they came to loathe me like the rest?”

The boy did not respond, though, unless faint whimpers between each gulp and jerk of his pelvis counted as one. For he was entranced by the sustenance she provided, as well as preoccupied with the increasingly frantic movements below. She giggled, witnessing his eagerness to be older than he was.

“You really want to be an adult that badly…?” she whispered into his ear.

Her free hand no longer teased him with ginger caresses along his side, and now opted to reach up and place it flat against his forehead. As if she was trying to take his temperature, she felt the burning skin for a moment before taking it back and replacing it with her own. Her eyes closed and her smile spread to either ear.

“Well, you’ll just have to wait~” she murmured.

There was a flash of white, a soft pulse of energy that washed over him from his head down. It reminded his body of the ambient temperature of the environ and chilled him to the core, kicking out the feet from under the fire burning in his loins. In fact, the warmth settling in his stomach and the pulse left him feeling more and more tired. As such, the tumescent rod digging into her pelvic flesh lost the wind in its sails bit by bit until it was as soft and malleable as her plush chest. Which she tucked back into the bunched up loincloth he wore, readjusting the fabric so as to more adequately cover his genitalia. Afterward, she used the same arm to curl under and prop up his rear and legs. Then she leaned back and let him rest atop her as he continued to gulp mouthful after mouthful, each movement becoming more sluggish with each passing moment.

“Sleep, little one…” she cooed. “Close your eyes and dream of brighter days, close your eyes and let mommy keep the bad at bay.”

A wispy sigh between swallows and a shift to snuggle into the soft, pillowy skin, and his eyes fluttered for a moment before growing too heavy to remain open.

“Run out, thou who comest in darkness, who enterest in stealth, his nose behind him, his face turned backward, who loses that for which he came.” In the manner of a siren luring sailors to their demise, her silky ethereal voice sang low and gentle. “Run out, thou who comest in darkness, who enterest in stealth, her nose behind her, her face turned backward, who loses that for which she came. Comest thou to kiss this child? I will not let thee kiss him. Comest thou to soothe him? I will not let thee soothe him. Comest thou to harm him? I will not let thee harm him. Comest thou to take him away? I will not let thee take him away from me.” She began rocking him back and forth. “I have made his protection against thee out of Efet-herb, it makes pain; out of onions, which harm thee; out of honey which is sweet to men and bitter to those who are yonder; out of the evil parts of the Ebdu-fish; out of the jaw of the meret; out of the backbone of the perch.”

And he soon knew only blackness with every syllable whispered and every ginger sway in her arms, as his breathing shallowed, as his consciousness drifted off.

When Azizi woke next, he found himself tucked away into a corner of his home with soft, worn linen atop and straw beneath him. There was gunk in the corners of either eye that cracked as they stretched open, were rubbed with the palms of his hands. Sitting up, he wasn’t met with a blinding ray of light. Just a veil of soft, muted radiance. From what he saw through the nearby cut-outs, of the wall, a gray overcast flooded the sky. Much like a screen or filter slid in front of a once crystal clear picture of some scene or another to produce an old, almost nostalgic emotion from those easily confused with dates and time in general. Something not seen since the last rains, of which occurred over several months prior.

Perhaps they’d have precipitation to heave off their chests?

He extended all four limbs, poking them out the linen, yawning as he made little circles in the air with his wrists and ankles. There was a splendid series of pops that alleviated his joints of their stiffness, as well as a wave of euphoria from each. Pleasant tears pricked his eyes. Then the child proceeded to scratch the back of his head and across his chest in a lackadaisical manner. Upon which he felt his hand bump against something.

Glancing down revealed a small idol carved out of sandy yellow stone. It was doubtlessly no larger than a grown man’s palm, but as he was now it was the size of his whole hand. The thing was shaped like a woman with the utmost generous endowment. Much like the woman, Nefertiti, only with an actual tiger’s head instead of a human one. A length of thread was looped through a hole at the top of its head. There were beads of gold in its predatory eyes and minute gems around its neck, wrists, waist and ankles, each cut to resemble balls of string. And it held two things: a halberd with a head styled as a heart in one mitt and a swaddled infant breastfeeding in the other.

The object hung between his pecks, clashing against his darkened skin. When he turned and brought it up to stare into its eyes, the boy felt transfixed. He was frozen in place, hypnotized by the sparkling glint inherent in each orb. In them, he saw what his heart of hearts pined for, things he kept buried out of necessity in a world with the proclivity for moral bankruptcy. Then someone called out his name and broke the trance.

“Azizi!” they called. “Azizi child!”

Clutching the idol, he looked from the voice’s direction to the object with a neutral expression. He caught its gaze for a moment before taking it off and stuffing it down into the linen. The feeling of cold hard stone offered a mixed bag of stimuli. Just then, his mother leaned through the doorway—one hand holding her head and the other gripping one side of the arch.

“Answer me when I call you, child,” she said.”

“Sorry mamma…” murmured the child, eyes downcast.

“Never mind, you must go to the fields—they say rain is about to fall.”

“Yes mamma.”

Then, with a nod and a wince, she headed back out.

Leaving him alone anew.

Once quiet, he reached back into the fabric and retrieved the statuette before his started feeling antsy about its position. He held it up to his face, regarding it with a critical yet reverent eye. Every detail someone could spot on the female body was present on the idol, causing him to squeeze his legs together as he saw the saucier bits.

In a way, the body reminded him of Nefertiti. But was she just a figment? He couldn’t help but doubt such a wonderful and kind woman existing in this world. Just another of the dreams he had after spending a night with mother when she was drunk. More wishful thinking and incredulous desires. Then the child patted his stomach, though, and realized he still felt warm and full. Perhaps it wasn’t?

Either way, he didn’t have time to ponder.

“AZIZI!”

Thus he was scrambling up and hurrying out, unaware of the feline eyes watching him on his ways towards the fields.

 


	2. Ebbing Realization

Grey days of gloomy weather seldom rolled into the ether of the sandy nation, and when they did—life-giving rain was an absolute certainty. Much to the elation of the flora and fauna inhabiting the region; much to the dismay of those indentured to the higher echelons of society. For while such precipitation brought forth much needed water and relief from the heavy-handed sun, it also begot sickness, hypothermia and potential injury with the slickening of soil. And due to the unrelenting drive of the whip-toting overseers tasked with keeping the indentured productive, tragedy often befell those incapable of coping and adjusting to the infrequent phenomenon. Thus the lives of the youthful and elderly were aptly claimed in such taxing conditions.

Azizi was among the children that'd begun to acclimate to the burden of such toil, albeit just.

The prepubescent boy carried a wicker basket atop his head, shirt disrobed so as to cover the opening of the container and shield its contents. Of course, this meant he was left open to the chilly wind that’d blown the storm over the horizon. He plodded up one of the rows of the tilled field where the tops of vegetables poked out from the earth along with several others. Dressed similarly to him, each employed their own method of keeping the harvested crops dry, some at the expense of their own protection from the elements. They ranged in age from a tad younger than him to bordering venerable with disparaging frames accordingly. There were jovial and downtrodden dispositions alike, for the life they led begot contrasting coping mechanisms. Some of the feebler workers lagged behind the rest, their pulling and collecting of produce suffering as a result. And it's said lacking work ethic that garnered the ire of the driver trailing behind the group, reprimanding those that fell behind with verbal and physical abuse. But the crack of the whip only came as a warning, too close for comfort to the one responsible for provoking the response, and encouragement for the faltering to pick up the pace.

He made sure to keep up with the healthier adolescents so as to avoid the scrutiny of the driver, each step causing the idol dangling from his neck to smack against wet skin—the eyes of which reflected each droplet that careened past them.

It’d been several days since the queer encounter he’d had with what he could only describe as a spirit of the desert. And while the jury was still out on whether or not what he experienced was an alcohol-induced dream, Azizi couldn’t deny the existence of the very statuette the woman sprung up from. The same applied to those around him too, though, thus making the gem-embedded sculpture a proverbial noose around his neck. Thankfully, moments of cleverness kept those greedy enough to tighten the rope and knock the chair aside from spotting it. But, with this in mind, why did he keep an object that could pose a risk to his well-being? Well, the boy wasn’t too sure of that himself. Perhaps the soft warmth suffusing from wherever it touched his body bereaved him of the want to be rid of it? Or perhaps the maternal feeling of safety discouraged him from pondering the thought of discarding it? Whatever the reason, the prepubescent child couldn’t stand the thought of parting with the figure. Besides, he felt much spryer with it in his possession and that was worth its weight in gold when one’s life consisted of often backbreaking labor.

However, he’d also become more apprehensive of those around him.

Squatting down so as to take hold of the radish head protruding from the darkened soil, Azizi gave a half-hearted tug as his vision wandered. Over his shoulder and behind, he made out the muddled silhouettes of the driver and an elderly man that’d collapsed to the ground not but several feet away from where the slaver followed the group. The child could make out the shape of a basket and vegetables lying in the mud. Despite the symphony of the rain drumming in either of his ears, he could make out what the younger of the two was shouting. Profanity, chastising, name-calling and derogatory exclamations were soon punctuated by the crack of a whip. But the wizened individual did not rise up when the driver bellowed the command— _how could he with a sprained ankle?_

“Wha…?” Azizi mumbled.

How’d he know that?

A glance down, there’s an ephemeral glitter in the eyes of the statuette.

There’s a loud smack and he returns his gaze to the prior scene, watching the start of the old man’s beating unfold. He’d been cracked in the temple by the driver’s free hand, knocking him face first into the muck with a splash of muddy water. Now the slaver towered over the frail man, sneering as he continued to verbally assail the other. When he tried to get up, the man reared a leg back to drive his shin into the midriff of the elder. If he listened closely, he’d catch a faint snap underlying the elderly’s coughing and wheezing. This display elicited a malicious cackle before a string of insults and profanity flowed off his tongue, one that worsened every time the laborer so much as twitched, provoking another kick to the gut, each more barbaric than the last. Yet not a one garnered the attention of anyone else in the group, let alone one of the other drivers within eyeshot of the barbarity.

Why was that, though—why didn’t anyone care?

Blinking rain out of his eyes, Azizi took his hand from the radish so as to wipe the back of his wrist across his visage. He couldn’t bear to watch any longer, thus turned away. In doing so, though, he felt a warmer moisture come away to mingle with the cold precipitation hammering down onto the world. The same pricked the corners of his eyes more and more as tears welled up, bleeding over to trail down his cheeks whenever he blinked or a gust of wind whipped past his countenance. Silt black bangs, head nigh soaked, glued to his forehead partially obscured his vision. He tried to sweep them to either side of his face, legs fidgeting and feet shifting, anxious. Then a clap of thunder deafened the world and startled the prepubescence, setting him off-kilter. And in the moment that followed, his left foot slipped out from under him as mud sprayed forward and upward as he fell back into the muggy earth.

Muck and grim splattered either side of his head in a pool that tittered between mud and brackish liquid, a sound like an earthy squelch accompanied by the splatting of several other objects falling into the soil. But this was muffled to the boy, as was the rain and what have you due to the sludge oozing into his ears. This feeling was comparable to having a smoothie mixed with a slurry of dirt and water gradually poured in whilst the same concoction covered the back of one’s body. Spots of the mire even managed to find their way into his eyes, stinging the sensitive organs, blurring his sight and causing him to squint—the precipitation did naught but intensify the stinging. Due to all of this, one might find it understandable that Azizi was, to say the least, dazed.

_Rise little one, hurry now._

Unlike the rest of the world, the maternal voice rang undiluted throughout his head, urging his body to act without much thought.

A wet  _plop!_  and he pulled his head out from the small indentation it left, and then the child sat up to look around. Behind him was the basket of produce—tipped over and stuck in the mud, radishes scattered like the old man’s, his garment lying elsewhere in the sludge.

Grimacing, he felt his heart catch in his throat for a moment as his breathing quickened uneasily. There was an instinctual tightening of his body, almost curling up into the fetal position at the realization of what he’d done. He turned his attention back to the slaver, the rain and muck in his eyes further bleared the two figures. The driver was still standing over the old man, only now his posture was slouched so as to compensate for how his hands were brought low to where his garment was, cupped together so as to direct a stream arcing out from his pelvic region.

The man hadn’t taken notice of the youth’s blunder yet.

Regarding the basket and produce anew, the boy struggled to swallow a pit that’d formed in his throat and begun to tremble at the thought of being beaten like the wizened man. Only he knew what he’d receive would be worse. How could it not be worse than the one the elder received? The slaver’s tolerance for error was no doubt but an iota after having to punish a handful of others that day. His eyes squeezed shut, heedless of the anguish that it heralded. What’d happen if he found it? When he found out? There’s no way he could hide it, no way could he wash them. Tighter he balled up. He’d be found out for certain even if he did manage to fly under the man’s radar, then he’d get beaten, he’d get whipped and kicked. Something would break and everything would hurt so very much, it wouldn’t stop hurting, would it? There was a strong gust of air that swirled around him. Because the slaver wouldn’t stop no matter how much he cried and begged, it’d just make him hit harder and harder until-

“ **Come now, little one,** ” cooed a dulcet voice, silky warm fingertips brushing his bangs aside.

Azizi’s eyes cracked open to behold the familiar flawless countenance of Nefertiti, her comely features radiating verifiable warmth the rain and wind could not hope to touch. She was bent over so as to put them eye-to-eye, a hand outstretched to caress the side of his face. Her luscious lips were pulled up into a soft, beaming smile as jovial honey-tinted irises glowed and cast away the bleary grey atmosphere. Everything awful in the world bedimmed in the face of perfection made manifest, her proverbial radiance taking him out of the situation he found himself in. Then the woman’s other hand extended and offered it to the child, palm up-turned and fingers cupped.

“ **You’ll catch your death out here.** ”

And, without a second thought, the youth inched forward so as to take hold of her mitt with both his.

* * *

Sheets of rain hammered down upon the adobe roof of the food storehouse, coalescing with the whistling wind and the quaking of the building’s lone entrance to form a single symphony. But the bricks used to construct the structure kept the negative sensations that came with the soothing sounds of the storm. Resting her back against the cool, drywall towards the back, Nefertiti lounged as if upon a silk-cushioned daybed. One long leg lay straight out while the other bent and crossed the opposite’s thigh, leaning in such a way as to prop something up, foot bouncing slowly upon its ball. A series of stacked baskets and apple crates to her right secluded her from view, and the slivers of flickering torchlight caused her rain-dappled Bulgarian rose-tinted skin to glisten. Subtleties such as these instilled a sense of serenity within her; the beauty and quirks of the world as a whole were endearing to those willing to stop long enough to listen. Well, they were soothing to her at least. For Azizi, though, they did nothing to alleviate the fright he’d experienced out in the field; the occasional crack of thunder did naught but compound his state. This did not deter her from consoling him, however.

Quivering from both the cold elements he’d been exposed to as well as his anxious distress, the woman kept him sat upon the aforementioned leg with his curled around her thin midriff. Her consistent gradual sway rocked him as he rested against said limb. A hand was placed upon the back of his head, fingers coming through short black locks of hair, globules of mud and water flicking about and staining her plush flesh. Not only that, but her warm arm curled around and pressed into his back, between his shoulder blades, while she kept him pressed to her chest. Due to this, Azizi’s head was thoroughly buried in one of the massive mounds resting heavy on her sternum. One’s heartbeat could put a troubled mind at ease, especially a mother’s, and there were no more direct means of listening than resting one’s head against one’s bosom.

A crack of thunder provoked a nigh imperceptible whimper accompanied by his body pressing tighter to her.

“ **There, there,** ” she cooed, head lowering and hand pulling back so as to place a kiss upon his forehead, “ **everything will be alright, little one—I’m here.** ”

Teary hazel eyes peered up to meet Nefertiti’s smiling visage, sniffling before shifting so as to rest the side of his head back into the immaculate pillow of her bosom. He hiccupped once, twice and thrice, and then spoke up in a hushed tone.

“Why’d no u-un care…?”

Her chest rose before heaving a sigh and causing the particulate dotting the floor in small patches to coalesce and swirl away from them. She pulled her hand back from his scalp and, with it, the mud clumping his hair drew away from the locks of dead protein like iron filings drawn out of sand by a magnet. But it didn’t stop at his hair: that which covered his backside and sides, not to mention here and there on his front, slipped up and off his skin like pudding thrown onto a plate of stainless steel. Then they fused into a large ball of material, of which plopped down into the palm of her hand before a prompt flick of her wrist sent it arcing off somewhere ahead of them. “ **That is the question, isn’t it?** ” She brought the same hand up to her lips before darting her tongue out to wipe off a dark streak smeared across the side of her pointer finger. “ **And I’m afraid the answer isn’t something easy to either explain or understand. It’s a complex matter of morality, restraint and emotion, all deriving from an unstoppable decay of both formers.** ” After which, she curled the aforementioned digit and brought it down so as to clean the smudges off the cheek not pressed into her breast. Once the dirt was removed, she licked the finger free of grim anew and returned to stroking Azizi’s head. “ **Dirty, dirty, dirty…** ”

“B-but… why’s it ‘ike that…?”        

Cupping the cheek she’d been cleaning, Nefertiti patted him before turning her eyes upward to the ceiling. “ **The world is broken, Azizi, and the people living in it are breaking with it. People of prominence, of power, of wealth, such people entrusted with absolute or near absolute power were the first to break. Next were those most closely connected to them. And down the effect cascaded, robbing more and more people of their empathy, sympathy, their sense of morality… With things are now, it’ll only grow worse. Even now: parents are exploiting and abusing their children, the elderly are cut down by the young, rulers treat their subjects like tools; livestock and a means, war and crime flourish, children are treated as toys and adults yet no one bats an eye, people turn a blind eye to the suffering of others, the oppressed are doomed to become the tyrannical, and so much more awfulness your ears are ill-suited to hear.** ”

With each addition to the list, the child balled up his hands tighter and tighter as they pressed into his chest. She could feel moisture suffusing her plush flesh from the eye hidden in the mass of the mound his head rested against. Glancing down, she saw tears streak and dribbled from the other left exposed to the stagnant storehouse air. Tilting her head to one side, a sad grin creased her lips as she brought the same curled digit from before up to gingerly dry the boy’s eye.

“ **There, there Azizi…** ” she cooed. “ **All is not lost. After all, those like you are still born despite all this—people with kind hearts capable of feeling for those besides themselves.** ”

He sniffled and pulled away to look up at Nefertiti’s warm visage, bottom lip quavering.

“ **So don’t be afraid to cry because of what you witnessed—it is your most potent weapon against cruelty.** ”

And thus, in the wake of the world’s incredulous callousness, Azizi buried his face into the woman’s breast and bawled while she stroked the back of his head.

* * *

It’d been a long time since Nefertiti had the pleasure of holding another as close as Azizi, let alone comforting someone during a time of hardship. The warmth of the boy’s body pressed into hers brought to prominence more aches than it satiated, yet still filled a vacuous void tucked away in the recesses of her being. Maternity, desire, and the yearning for young name a few, but above all else, there was the drive to see her parent-children make it out the other end of the long, dark tunnel they’d been forced through. This thought begot a pang of wistfulness—no.

She couldn’t dwell on past errs so long as the present needed course correction and the future needed salvation.

Blinking, she looked down from atop the simple roof of Azizi’s home, or at least what passed as one for a slave.

The thoroughfare below was bereft of pedestrians and its daytime foot traffic, replaced by the sporadic passing by of the town’s guard; a chortle.

Guard was an embellishment for what amounted to a bunch of thugs kept around by the local noble’s ill-gotten wealth.

Regardless of their origin, though, they at least had the wherewithal to maintain security from outside forces, even if it stemmed from the nobility’s desire to refrain from losing capital with the death of citizens and or destruction of structures. For this and this alone, Nefertiti had something to be grateful for, if only just.

A crackle popped the air around a torch’s swaying flame, getting louder with each step the next guardsman strolling down the aforementioned road took. Their light source shed orange and red and yellow illumination around him for tens of feet before waning into murkier and murkier radiance. Said incandescence glinted across the metal of the blade cinched to his hip, as well as the sweaty sheen such proximity to the fire begot across the side of his face.

Her scrutiny cut to the quick of Nour’s being the moment she laid eyes upon him, causing him to stop in front of the house.

In that instant, she knew of how his father never held so much as a modicum of paternal affection for him when growing up. Perhaps this lack of love came about on the eve of his mother’s death, an end heralded by the advent of brigands raiding the outskirts of the town he was born in. Whatever the cause, he was subject to both verbal and physical abuse, and, at a very early age, was sold off to the first person that’d shown interest in the prepubescent youth. There he learned to survive by whatever means necessary, fostering a hatred for his father while simultaneously adopting the traits and quirks of the unsavory individuals he was around at all times. Eventually becoming that which had taken his mother away, he wallowed in self-indulgence at its worse. Women were a toy to be used and discarded regardless of age; children and men were deadweight and to be killed unless they could prove useful one way or another; money and beer were coveted above all else and worth slitting throats over; and his father’s head looked splendid on the ground it fell to.

Nour turned a reluctant eye towards the inky empyrean ocean of stars and maintained his gaze for several seconds, blinking away tears that’d been quick to well-up. Nefertiti frowned and sighed. A quiver came over his hands, spreading up to his mouth and the rest of his body as one mitt rose up to splay out and cover his face. Those digits of his were no strangers to scarlet and crimson, nor the struggling soft bodies of one night stands. And his skin knew the bite of sharpened metal as intimately as his own heartbeat.

Yet beneath everything, there remained a child that’d never gotten the life he deserved—one too weak to cling on any longer.

For the loss of this fragment, for the loss of innocence, Nefertiti wept.

And so, too, did Nour.

Then the woman directed her bleary eyes away from the man and back up into the infinite cosmos stretched taut upon the canvas of the world’s atmosphere, thus prompting the teary guard to resume his rounds, albeit at an uncertain shuffling gait.

Many things were awry in the world, so very many things.

The more nihilistic-minded might label it too many, but not Nefertiti.

In her eyes, the world was a vast network of threads binding people and things together in a complex series of strings that, when viewed in the way only she could, wove together to form an immaculate, resplendent tapestry. Whether you described this as fate or destiny and however you might interpret either or, this was the irrefutable truth. Everyone was connected to one another in ways that transcended blood, all encompassed within a single entity known as life. To revel in the euphoric bliss of life’s immense bounty of experiences, both good and bad, all needed to be in a constant state of equilibrium. That’s why altruism, empathy, even morality were paramount—for if all forsook these like things, then the opposite side of the coin would tear the whole tapestry apart.

And she hadn’t an iota of a desire to see such a ruinous conclusion to mankind’s long history come about.

She and her sisters had been gone for far too long, and she couldn’t afford to wait the time it’d take to gradually reconnect with her people.

Mankind needed the guidance of the Divines now more than ever.

But if past mistakes had taught her anything, more was needed.

Reaching a hand up, she extended a finger to hover over one of the points of the crescent moon would have been were it not missing from the midnight sky, the new moon still holding firm.. There she traced its shape in the sky, a faint sparkle of royal bluish energy trailing from her fingertip before dissipating. And for just a moment, the whole world seemed to shine just a little brighter; for just a moment, vagabonds lost in the shifting dunes found their guiding star; for just a moment, those of affluence and influence stayed their hands; for just a moment, life was a smidge fairer. In time, the moon would rise out from the black that’d consumed it. And when it did, the gentle pale moonlight would dance across the drowsy world with midnight revelry. By the time it fully turned to face the world, though, it’d be time to move on.

Suffice to say, Nefertiti had a good deal of progress to make before then.


	3. An Untimely Flood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Includes sexually-charged scenes with a minor, no actual intercourse with a minor.

Dark indigo gave way to magenta and lighter shades of purple that were tainted by hues of red and orange. Starlight waned until the opulent gold of the daystar rose over dunes and sandy hillocks, its rose-tipped fingers stretching out across the land of particulate and rock to warm every nook and cranny. The illumination stirred the diurnal critters hiding out in their warrens, dens and what have you into animation, popping their heads out for a moment before inching outside to start their daily routines. However, the same could not be said for the people rising from their cots and bedding. For while the general effect was more or less the same, individuals lower on the totem pole of society were less than thrilled to add yet another tally to their servitude.

Freedom of choice was not something afforded to their station, though.

So, when the first cloud overhead wandered in front of the waxing sun, there was a chorus of hollers all throughout the lower quarters of the town. People groaned and woke, some more begrudging than others, before readying themselves for another day of labor. Nefertiti watched them amble out from their homes with the waning sluggishness of Nod, like worker bees flittering from the hive to begin nectar collection. Up and about first were the adolescent men expected to carry out the most taxing, backbreaking work their drivers demanded of them. Next were the women and elderly, those tasked with an assortment of duties that seemed to range from labor out in the fields to tending to what livestock there was. And last were the children considered to young to be of much use for more intensive work—they almost exclusively worked out in the fields: picking, collecting sharp stickles to cut corn with, etc. Regardless of their age and capability, though, they’d be driven to work from the hour of sunrise to when the daystar sinks below the horizon anew.

If they could not keep up, they’d be punished; if they faltered, they were beaten; and if they were fatigued, they could expect to be pushed until they keeled over.

Those stuck in this society’s lowest echelon had never been treated fairly or kindly for that matter, save for the stray slaver with a stronger sense of compassion than their fellows. Nefertiti knew this better than anyone. However, the days when some nobility treated people bound in shackled servitude with so much as a modicum of humanity were long since passed. Now there were only the useful and the discarded. If one’s results were not up to snuff for the desires of the owner, they were trash. This was the fate of Azizi and his ilk—an arduous life of toil to be ended by said toil.

At least, it would be for the youth hadn’t the woman other ideas in mind.

Waiting atop the roof of the child’s home, several minutes passed before something piqued the attention of her feline ears. They angled to better listen from where they jutted out of her luscious locks of hair on top her head. A woman’s voice (no doubt his mother) called the boy by name, her tone enjoining, which galvanized the youth to shift and rustle amid whatever cot he may have shared with his kin. She leaned forward to get on hands and knees, slinking towards the edge before laying down flat. Her ample chest spread out as either mound squished against the adobe, and the waterfall of silt-black hair hung down in tandem with her head as she peered down. Then there was the pitter-patter of bare footsteps hurrying this way and that until drawing near the doorway.

Predatory orange-yellow irises with more in common to a cat-focused upon the simple door preventing physical line of sight to Azizi and his mother, for all of a moment.

The door swung open and a gaunt woman aged through the toil of life and desert’s touch beyond her actual years sauntered through to catch up with another group of similar women. Soon to follow, Azizi scuttled out and shut the door behind him before turning to catch up with the group he normally joined.

Now was her chance.

Placing either palm against the roof’s edge, Nefertiti lifted and propelled herself off the ledge in a single motion. Wild shoulder-length hair whipped about and her striped tail wrapped around her plush thigh until coming to a soft, soundless landing on her hands and feet not but several yards behind the boy. Ahead of him was an alley of sorts, cutting between two slave quarter buildings. She shot up onto mile-long legs and strode forward to catch up with him. No one noticed the Bulgarian rose bombshell of a woman they passed by because she willed it. Those she wished not to acknowledge her presence—didn’t.

Stalking up behind the child, a grin creased her lips as either hand reached forward while keeping pace. One darted forward to cup around his mouth while the other wrapped around his undeveloped chest. There was but a muffled cry to signal Azizi’s disappearance from the group he’d been lagging, one none took note of. And with the latter, she hoisted him up to her bosom before slipping away into the alley. Only then did she utter the words, “ **Hello, little man~!** ”

 

* * *

One of the last things Azizi had expected to encounter early in the morning was the silky skin of Nefertiti’s hands and arm pressing into his body, let alone being squished against the woman’s bosom. Nor did he expect her to pivot into the seclusion of an alley after securing him in her grasp. And he couldn’t help but notice how the cushions resting heavy upon her sternum seemed to press into more of his back than the day prior, almost engulf parts of it here and there. But this seemed to extend to the rest of her, too, or at least the parts immediately touching him. Everything just seemed noticeably larger than the last time he saw her.

“ **Hello, little man~!** ” she cooed in that sultry tone of hers that left him inexplicably shy and nervous.

“H-hello…!” the youth mumbled, still muffled.

Without a word, the woman shifts her grip to hold onto the youth’s rather small hips and turned him around to face her eye to eye. Pools of hazelnut met the piercing gaze of fiery gold lakes, thus inciting a light that slaves had beaten out of them at an early age. He beheld the same radiant figure that’d materialized from the sands that fateful night, only now he could tell that a thousand resplendent sunsets could not compare to Nefertiti’s beauty. Lips as full as can be, pillowy and enticing with a vivid rose-red gloss painting the flawless canvas that was her mouth. Skin immaculate and soft beyond compare. Eyelashes, long and thick, that glitter like dew-dappled crystals when the light danced across them. And a wild mane of hair of rich, fertile silt black that now fell clear past her shoulder blades. Yet for all this beauty, it was not like when she first manifested—no, it was greater. And just like this greater splendor, so too did her body seems to have grown. Not to a significant degree but enough to take note of.

So, transfixed was he that Azizi failed to realize how long he’d been ogling, as well as the brightening red hue suffusing his facial features. Thus, he was taken aback when her melodic giggle filled his ears and her velvety soft lips placed a kiss on the tip of his nose. While he couldn’t see it, the child felt the lipstick stain left upon his skin.

“ **You’re far too cute for your own good~** ” As one might expect, this only intensified the flushness.

“I, er— I…”

“ **Now, now, little man, no need to be so flustered—I don’t bite, after** **all** **~** ”

The giggle afterward did naught to substantiate this claim.

“Y-yes… right, s-sorry I—”

“ **Oh, there’s no need for any of that, now come, let’s see that wonderful smile of yours.** ”

The compliment only compounds the situation both on the inside and out, but at the same time, it feels so very nice to hear someone pay him such flattery. So, he can’t help himself when a shy grin crept up one side of his face, of which is beet red at this point and half turned away, much to Nefertiti’s disappointment: an emotion worn on her sleeve as evinced by how she puffed her cheeks out.

“ **Come now, _Nuur 'inayyi_ —you shouldn’t keep that handsome smile hidden from the world.**”

This was the first he’d ever heard the name _Nuur '_ _inayyi_ , and as such, it meant nothing to him. But when it rolled off her tongue, there was something inexplicably heartwarming about it. Like when his mother called him son, yet something was fundamentally different he couldn’t quite discern. However, he hadn’t the time to ponder what it might have been for the woman proved quite impatient.

“If you do, mayhap another kiss awaits you, hmm?”

Inch by inch, Nefertiti brought her face up under Azizi’s to nuzzle into his chin and place peck after peck against him. As you might expect, this brought out the child’s ticklish side as he began squirming and laughing in response to the affection. Something of a toothy smile lit up his face as his hands pushed and patted at her cheeks, neck and forehead as her own giggle rose to join his laughter. Were it not for her willing it to be so, their mirthful merriment would have drawn the attention of pedestrians passing the alley.

“ **There’s that smile~!** ” she crooned, “ **Always makes my heart swell at the sight—now, as promised~** ” She pulled back and eyed the youth thoughtfully. “ **Oka-a-ay, close your eyes and don’t open them until I say~** ”

The blush returned, reinvigorated, as he once again shrunk within her grasp. But with nowhere to really hide, Azizi was left with no other choice than to heed her command. Although this isn’t to say some part of him didn’t desire the gesture or find the prospect exciting. What was transpiring being not something he was wholly against, it’s just he wasn’t certain of anything in these situations. He only vaguely recalled moments of intimacy occurring between him and his mother whenever everyone was drinking far more than they should. And unlike what he could recall from those, how Nefertiti approached affection differed in a dramatic way from his mother.

He enjoyed the gentleness, the slowness.

Closing his eyes, the child made a face he assumed adults did when pressing their lips together in a kiss. Brow furrowed, nose wrinkled, mouth puckered and face scrunched up, he balled up either hand and brought both arms and legs up to his chest in anticipation for the oral embrace. One second of quiet darkness passed then two, then three and four. And just as he was about to open his eyes, he felt a puff of cool fragrant air suffuse across his lips. Then a warmth shared a brief nuzzle against his nose.

“ **Too cute for your own good~** ” Nefertiti proclaimed.

He was cherry red all the way down to his toes at this point; why did he feel so let down?

“ **Now then, do you want to go and do something fun, together?** ”

“B-but I… the field and—”

She shook her head before setting him down and crouching down to more or less maintain eye level.

“ **What they do with people there is wrong, so I won’t allow it! Not with someone as special to me as you~** ”

“But what… about others? T-they…”

A hand reached out to cup the side of his face, her smile turning bittersweet for all of a moment. “ **I’ll need more to help them, so for now? I want to be with you, the strong little man that saved me~** ” Then the hand slid down to offer itself to one of his. “ **Now, will you keep a girl from being lonely, Azizi?** ”

“…O-okay…” He took her hand, his engulfed in hers.

 

* * *

Out past the borders of the city, hard rock beaten into submission gave way to the smooth consistency of glaring sand that still radiated the cold of night, exchanging this for the warmth in people’s feet and the rising temperature begot by the daystar bit by bit as the day progressed. So, for now, it was pleasant to rest exposed skin upon its grainy surface. A fact that Azizi enjoyed to its fullest: He sat at the sedimentary bank of the Nile with his legs draped over to rest them upon the rich silt filling the riverbed in its entirety, swaying them back and forth. Either hand was positioned behind him to rest his palms and splay out his fingers in the cool sand. He leaned back with most of, much of his weight kept up upon his arms. Grinning ear to ear, he felt something his arduous duties seldom permitted—at ease.

Right next to him was, as you might expect, Nefertiti. She sat along the edge with one leg crossed over the other, wrinkling the already taut golden fabric of the cloth strung across her groin (Azizi noticed she’d gotten this item the second time he saw her, though he wasn’t certain where or how). Either hand was placed atop one another over her lap, the fingers threaded together with the thumbs covering her belly button. Her posture was straight, nigh perfect, thus invoking an air of regality with how she presented herself. Yet the expression of her visage suggested the serenity of a monk rather than the stoicism of a monarch, something that filled the boy with curious confidence upon glancing over. He also noticed how the glow of the daystar cascaded across her unblemished dark skin, glistening here and there around areas like her shoulder and arms while also casting a sheen over the incredulous mounds of flesh heaving from her chest. It was particularly complimentary around the lighter mocha peaks and summits of said bosom, highlighting every bump on the plump, ripe fruits. Of which begot a tightening around his nether regions (similar to when his mother started their special bonding time) as well as a rumbling in his tummy; from the first taste, an unshakable appetite for the succulent nectar held within.

Shaking his head, Azizi turned back to the nigh dry riverbed and stared hard at the rich soil—he felt that shyness start bubbling up to the surface anew. He pushed off the ground and awkwardly crossed his forearms over the spot of exponential heat and rigidity attempting to tent the fabric of his loincloth. And to aid in this endeavor, he found himself quick to squeeze his thighs against one another. Then he chanced a sidelong look towards Nefertiti, only to find there no change in disposition.

At least there was something to find reprieve from the swelling embarrassment.

They remained like this for a while longer, even the turgid rush of blood and prompt concealment. It was one of the “fun things” the woman had suggested for them to partake in. And while it might not have been the definition of such a statement to some, the youth adored nature. From the lethal to the mundane, everything had a measure of fascination to experience. So while there wasn’t much to behold from the margins, out past the city outskirts like where they were had much more to offer. For instance, the untouched riverbed of the Nile and occasional skittering critter in search of water. But as all things came to an end, the calm quietude broke upon the advent of Nefertiti’s sultry, dulcet voice.

“ _ **Nuur '**_ _ **inayyi**_ **, you must learn to hide your biology subtler than that,** ” she drawled.

“W-what?” he asked, mien puzzled.

“ **Oh, never mind, my little man—do you wish to see something beautiful~? Something exciting~?** ” She extended the long, curvaceous leg sitting on top to gesture to the river in front of them.

Azizi’s eyes trailed along the curve of her luscious thigh, the dip of her knee and rise of her calf until they rested upon the aforementioned item. “Y-yes, I would Nefertiti.”

There was a click of her tongue as her brow rose on one side opposite of where she glanced at the child, proceeded by a sigh and a huff. Suffice to say, this caused his heart to quicken at the implications.

“ **Well then,** ” she began with a noticeably irritated tone, “ **watch closely~** ”

She brought the same leg around and away from the youth before stopping parallel to the river’s edge, leaning back as she did to mime the position Azizi had been sitting in not long prior. Gravity groped and pulled her breasts partway down the sides of her chest, causing the voluptuous flesh to ripple as the mountains bobbed provocatively while settling from the abrupt movement. If he didn’t know better, he’d have sworn he saw droplets of alluring golden white ambrosia flick out from her erotic buttons. But then another sudden motion caught his eye, pulling his attention back to where she’d intended to direct it (that is if the eye candy with her titillating bosom wasn’t the actual show). And once she had an audience, Nefertiti swiped her leg across to the opposite of where it started.

Aside from the blatant pornographic gesticulation of her limb, of which culminated to a climactic flourish that ended with her legs being spread open to evince just how little was left to the imagination down below, a miraculous scene unfolded.

The sound of crashing and low roar of fast-moving liquid heralded the first visual sign. Down from where the tips of her toes pointed to, water tittering between deep blue and silt black flooded through the once dried Nile. It wasn’t Akhet but Shemu—nothing should have flowed in such turbulent volume this time of year! Azizi pulled back from the edge and scurried away, stumbling over himself as he did, just before the frothy rapids careered past where his legs had once been swaying and beyond. Eventually surging out past where his vision could make out anything besides shapes and blurred colors. After which the vehement wakes sprayed foam and moisture as they slapped against the banks came to a gradual conclusion, calming after close to a minute.

Now all that remained of the magic was the foamy wake keeping the water from peaceably settling.

It suffices to say that the child was rooted where he stood from the shock. Nefertiti, meanwhile, had a wide grin on her face as she laid the leg in question down flat on the riverbank. Water had thoroughly drenched her sublime body in a glistening coat of moisture, even soaked the lone piece of fabric that clung to her body to the point of transparency. She brought the limb up so it was pressed to her side, bridging the dip between her abdomen and pelvis, further intensifying the beddable promiscuity of her overt positioning. Once there, she slid her hand up the liquid-dappled dark skin of her thigh until coming to a stop at her knee. After which she shifted her weight onto one arm before bending it and slipping down onto her elbow where she then pivoted her whole body so as to rest on her side.

Quick, stop gawking slack-jawed and ask the thing! “H-how did…?”

“ **I am what you think, _Nuur '_** _ **inayyi**_ **, so that means I am who I** **be** **. This then makes me the Nile you see; the cool sand beneath your feet; the sky and air you breathe; the heavens above and earth below; the mother and father; the Alpha and Omega; and the monarch that owns all that you see and more,** ” A playful edge creeps into her voice. “ **Of course, _Nuur '_** _ **inayyi**_ **, this means you are my man, just as I am your woman.** ”

She continued before he could form a response, raising her other leg and swaying it around to direct it at him. “ **Now, I ask you, what is my name?** ”  
  
“I-it’s Nefert—”

“ **No, no, not the name I gave—a name you give, something special. I’ve already given you several, after all, it’s only fair~** ”

It seemed she was hell-bent on making the tightening of his undergarment ever worse for as long as possible. So with his hands returning to that awkward positioning to hide the source of flustered shyness, he looked away and thought for a moment. There weren’t many names he could think of, none like what she used for him at least. And those that came immediately were ones his mother had called him during their bonding time. While he didn’t fully understand why, something just felt wrong about using any of them to reciprocate. Thus he was left to feeling around in the dark for something just at the tips of his fingers yet still out of reach.

The woman seemed to take notice of this as she chortled, sighing before turning onto her back and placing either hand just above her shoulder. Shifting so her legs were pressed to her chest and lower half raised up into the air. “T **hink about it, your answer need not come now—allow yourself the time to come upon it naturally. And? Join me for a swim~!** ” Then she extended either arm to launch herself off the ground and into the air, sailing through it in an arc that ended with a feet-first dive into the murky water. Upon which the brackish surface and below purified in an exponential wave like a droplet of rain breaking water tension. Leaving naught but the remains of her sole garment behind as the lone detritus, of which seemed to have been made from grains of sand.

Azizi audibly gulped without thinking.

Not long after her graceful skinny dipping dive, she breached the top and shook her head as dry as she could. If the daystar’s light hadn’t emphasized how scores, nay, nations of men would go to war just for the chance to take her to bed, it most certainly did now that she was dripping wet. And then there’s the fact her breasts seemed content to mime overinflated floatation devices. But the youth tried not to focus on that, rather he made an effort to keep his mind occupied with the mechanical movements of stripping to only his loincloth.

Familiar guttural rumbling emanated from the woman just as it had when he found the statuette, “ **Without a doubt, given good food, you’ll become quite the strapping young man~** ”

Everything seemed dead set on overwhelming him with shy tension.

“I-I don’… really know how to—”

“ **Perish the thought, I’ll teach you—just make sure to hold on tight~** ”

With her assurances, the child toed the edge of the bank whilst sluggishly rubbing his left bicep. Golden rays danced across his scrawny body, dark mocha skin resplendent in the light. Were it not for his lack of nutrition, the budding muscle of a prepubescent boy approaching manhood might’ve reared its head by now, given the constant labor he was forced to do. There he stayed for a moment. It wasn’t like he didn’t fancy the idea of swimming with the woman, especially now. Nor did he dislike her invitation to stay as close as possible to the body he’d started becoming addicted to (that being said, he couldn’t imagine what he’d do if the tent poked her). But his mother and many others made it crystal clear that the river was not to be touched, let alone swam in—it was people’s water source, after all.

His mother wasn’t here, though, and the person who was present gave him permission, wanted him even, to break that rule.

Thus why he hesitated to jump in for but a moment.

Unlike Nefertiti, Azizi had neither finesse nor grace when he splashed into the water not far from where she floated. Also different from her was how he couldn’t seem to figure out how to move back up to the surface. When this happened, panic bloomed through his chest as well as a sudden anguish following the cloud of bubbles blowing out from his mouth. Icy liquid rushed down his throat and deluged places it was never meant to go. His limbs thrashed about as he spun back and forth, eyes stinging and throat seizing. The light dimmed more and more as he sunk opposite of where his lungs screamed at him to go. Then he felt a wave of water roll past him and a fuzzy shape dart towards him.

Someone wrapped their arms around his waist before pushing him up towards the surface, emerging with constant splashing and sputtering.

He coughed and wheezed as either arm flailed for a moment, tittering back until jerking forward and squishing his body against the savior he still couldn’t make out. His arms wrapped around what he assumed to be their head, and then his legs reached around to lock together just beneath their shoulder blades. The act displaced the fabric of his lower torso, or perhaps the cloth had been lost on the way up? Regardless, the lack of material begot an exponential intense heat choked his groin as his huddled over posture squeezing him as tight as he could to the other caused immense flesh to drown his nether regions in a valley of plush flesh similar to his mother’s chest. And just like hers, it invoked lurid sensations that overwhelmed his head with primal thoughts intended for matured animals in every fiber of his penis—magnified a hundredfold. How he kept adjusting and moving his body in erratic motions to ensure he didn’t lose his grip only compounded the matter.

It wasn’t long before he felt a hand start patting and rubbing his back while he hacked the water from his lungs, meanwhile a different one altogether moved to raise his arms above his head. Not an easy task, mind you.

“ **There, there, it’s okay—I’m here, I won’t let you drown,** ” Nefertiti cooed.

Tears pricked the corners of his eyes while his lungs continued to grasp for air and expel what was not, the woman’s warmth was his sole respite from the still cool breeze eager to chill him to the bone.

They remained like this for a while longer, Nefertiti continuing to rub his back until he felt able to calm down. Then she wiped his eyes dry with her thumbs while he continued to cling to her. Her breasts had persisted to massage his still growing meat due to how they bobbed in the Nile, but this blooming burn creeping out to the rest of his lower torso was at the back of his mind. The scare remained at the forefront of his mind and crowding it was the consoling from the woman.

“ **Are you okay?** ”

Unable to muster a voice, he nodded.

“ **Good, I’m glad you’re unharmed—I’m sorry for not catching you, _Nuur '_** _ **inayyi**_ **. Do you want to get out?** ”

That was the last thing he wanted, although this wasn’t apparent from his shivering frame and bloodshot eyes.

“N-no!” he cried in his hoarse voice. “I want t-to… swim, please?”

“ **…are you certain, my little man?** ”

He nodded vigorously, then tightened his arms around her head before mumbling, “…wanna have fun with you…” To which a lopsided grin flashed across her face.

“ **Okay… I’m lowering you down now, okay?** ” Bit by bit he inched towards the still warbling surface. “ **Hold my hands till you can float on your own, okay?** ”

“R-right…”

Prying his arms away from her head, he slid them down her shoulders until either hand came to rest on her wrists where he clutched them as tight as he could. Then he released his legs’ lock so she could lower him down. When he touched the water, there was an instinctual flinch but nothing more. After she was certain he could take going further, Nefertiti continued to place him into the river until he was submerged up to his sternum.

“ **Now, I’m going to put you on your back and hold you there—all I need from you** **for now** **is to relax, _Nuur '_** _ **inayyi**_ **.** ”

And so she did, much to child’s dismay. However, he bit his lower lip to keep from making any noise as she reclined him back into the water, shifting to his side so as to place her hands on the small of his back and between his shoulder blades. Everything felt tense as he laid there, held above the water surface and trying to do as she instructed. But after the experience of drowning, he wasn’t too keen on having his head so close to being underneath anew.

The woman took notice of this and sighed from her nose, brow softened and lips pulled taut one way in a bittersweet expression.

She leaned down and placed a kiss on his cheek, “ **Here—for courage.** ”

Eyes widen before darting away from her visage.

Azizi took in a long breath from his nose that he then exhaled from his mouth, closing his eyes so as to keep from reminding himself of where he was. He wasn’t held up in the river that had nearly drowned him. No, rather he was being carried by Nefertiti to his house. That’s where he was right now.

“ **Good, good~!  Now spread your arms and legs out wide.** ”

He did as he was told and followed her whispered instructions when the words played off her plump lips, all the while trying to keep his composure. Keep pleasant thoughts in mind was the utmost piece of encouraging advice to help him in this endeavor as he spread out his limbs as far as he could. So he searched his head for happy memories from days, weeks, even years past. Yet the more he sought, the more he found a lack of fond recollections he had of his time spent with his family.

It was bizarre, to say the least.

His mother, father and late elder brother were the only people he’d grown close to--his parents warned him not to make friends outside of the family or else he’d be used as a scapegoat. Even when his brother still lived and the special bonding time his mother had him partake in with her was less frequent, something was different from the other families he saw. But really, there was no difference, was there?

No, there really wasn’t was there?

The other children his age staying in the same structure as him and his family never played when one of their family members were around, as they were always taken someone like he would be when his mother came for bonding time. And they didn’t try to talk much with anyone outside that familial unit, either, just like him. Of course, there were exceptions to this norm, the occasional girl or boy that brought something of a toy they found to the others to make merry with. Or, like what preceded his death, moments of kindness similar to what his eldest sibling did for their father took place. But they were incredibly infrequent and often resulted in something going awry in varying shades of awful.

Azizi found himself frowning as he took in a breath, his brow knitting together and forehead furrowing.

Despite all of this, though, the more he looked for those pleasant thoughts and memories to keep in mind--the more his attention turned towards the, admittedly, brief time he’s spent with Nefertiti thus far. And in those few moments, he found a small smile beginning to creep up on him as his mien softened.

“ **...and then, pull your arms to your sides whilst keeping yourself afloat with your legs and feet.** ”

The child opened his eyes and did what he was told, listlessly drifting in the direction of the woman’s voice--to which his efforts were rewarded by bumping into the plush flesh of her ample bosom, drifting into her awaiting arms to receive a hug and her radiant smile.

“ **Very good, _Nuur 'inayyi_ ~**”

* * *

Nefertiti laid along the riverbank of the Nile on her side, the singular radiant golden garment bequeathing her a modicum of modesty anew, head propped up in the palm of one hand whilst the other ran supple fingers through the still damp locks of hair on Azizi’s head. His petite form was pressed into the valley of her chest and against her sternum, curled up and resting his head on the only cushion she could provide. Calm breathing begot a slow rise and fall to his small chest, unimpeded by the sheer immensity of her femininity. It was the hand she ran through his hair responsible for keeping the other mountainous mass of immaculate chest fat from laying over top his face and smothering him.

The child and she spent numerous hours in the water she called forth to flood the riverbed swimming, playing, teaching him how to float and swim without her nearby until his hands were wrinkled and he needed to be close for body heat. He still had a lot to learn in that regard. But a soft smile that caused the sun above to pale in comparison played on her lips regardless. It was only dwarfed by the encouraging warmth that suffused the ether around her, shimmering across the still grains of sand and riding atop the river currents.

How long had it been since she’d done anything like this? Since she felt like this?

She wished not to recall those long centuries of isolation, of starvation.

Cracking her eyes open, the comely woman glanced down at the lovely countenance of the man-to-be sleeping so peacefully against her. She brushed the bangs to the side and trailed the tip of her pointer finger down his cheek, following the contours of his facial features until stopping at his chin. It reminded her of a time when silk sheets never had the chance to be made upon an immense bed that constantly knew the strain of day-in and day-out procreative fornication, of the overwhelming sensation of an endless appetite driving her to engorge herself on the droves of lovers she wore out every day.

Now all she knew was the pains of hunger, hunger and regret.

She’d come to accept the fact there’d never be another moment where she was as full as then, but what she couldn’t accept was letting the regret go undone.

A sound caused her feline ears to twitch, and her attention turned to the other side of the river where she saw a deformed animal saddled up with wares over three distinct hump-like protrusions more or less dragging a merchant on the brink of death along with it as it approached the water.

The man was very shrewd in his dealings with customers, more so with those from city-states other than his own than any other, and he didn’t so much as bat an eye when he saw how the merchandise he offloaded from place to place furthered the misery of people his buyers consider beneath them. So long as he made enough coin to make it to his next stop, he was more than happy to oblige any oppressor.

Nefertiti shook her head as she watched the animal stagger forward and reach down to begin lapping up the life-affirming liquid, the man being dragged behind it noticing the sudden stop only to look up and go wide-eyed at the sight of water.

It wasn’t the flooding season for the Nile, so why was there such an overflow? His thoughts and feelings were like an open book, even if she hadn’t been who she was.

Rather frantically, he worked to free himself of whatever kept him tied to the beast of burden and started to pull himself towards the edge of the bank. He didn’t even have the lucidity to notice the two across the way.

A blank expression washed over the shapely buxom woman’s visage.

Before the man could reach the water, his eyes glazed over and body went limp without warning. She could hear the panic inside his head as that primal part of his brain struggled to reach what it needed to cling onto life. Nefertiti would not have it. His life was no more important than the one of the boy snuggled up against her--less so even.

Then, after a moment, the sand around the dying merchant rose up with awkward animation to start encasing him in a suffocating tomb. While she could hear the manic screams of the man’s inner animal, she did not allow him to voice those rancorous, keening cries. They’d disturb Azizi, after all. And a quiet, peaceful death seemed better than a boisterous one full of struggling fright.

At the very least, he would not perish alone, nor would his death amount to nothing.

For once the last iota of life trickled out from him, that precious essence gradually found its way and flowed into herself.

With his passing, Nefertiti found herself taking in a sharp breath as euphoria washed over her. Her eyes fluttered as the beat of her heart picked up. The terror and pain before the sweet numbing bliss of death that’d afflicted the merchant filled her entirely for a moment, bringing her back to her former self from so many years ago for a fraction of a second. Then she sighed as the sensations ebbed and everything normalized anew.

She brought a hand up to examine and saw how, albeit subtly, the proportions had changed to accommodate a larger stature. The same applied to her chest, her hips, her neck, her abdomen--the entirety of her physicality benefited from the same change.

“It’s a start…” she murmured. “Now, then…”

Turning her attention back to Azizi, she reached down to take a handful of sand that she then showered along the side of his curled up frame. After which, the numerous granules of particulate began vibrating with exponential intensity. He stirred in his sleep at the sudden disturbance, but a loving peck on the cheek quieted his shifting as the sand and rock beneath him came to join the particulate lined up on his side to engulf him for several moments. Then they ceased to vibrate and collapsed inward, for the youth was no longer there to provide support.

“ **Sleep well, my little man... now--what to do with you?** ”

The animal drawled a groaning moan in response before returning to drinking.


End file.
